Not to be arrogant or anything, but my research paper is kind of awesome, at least the half of it that's currently completed. I make Catholicism freakin' exciting. So now I am rewarding myself by using this unexpected spare time to write about far less meaningful events.
Entertaining event of Saturday's excursion to the Fox River Mall:
[Diana picks up a bra. Which is my size. And giggles to herself.]
Diana: Awww, tiny!
Me: Gee, thanks.
D truly has the funniest breast comments of anyone I know. Such as, "She just had huge knockers. Like, if she leaned forward while she was driving, they would honk the horn!" Please note that she yelled at me for calling a contestant I didn't like on Jeopardy a "hag" last week, because that was a word that is "degrading to women." But I would totally call a man a hag; my insults know no gender. That last paragraph pretty accurately sums up the inner workings of the Kellie and D companionship.
We also really like making fun of my stepdad Craiganator. Currently, he and I are having a back-and-forth e-mail debate over Brendt Snedeker's crying at the end of the Masters'. I am not a fan of him because he had arrogant-looking hair, but Craiganator said he would probably cry too-- even though my mom and I would make fun of him-- because one shot made a $400,000 difference. I asked him how many kettles $400,000 would buy, because it entertains me that he calls pots "kettles." This variety of behavior is totally warranted in the chunk of my family that has dual last names: I called a roundabout a "rotary" ONE TIME and they refuse to let me live it down. They also make fun of me for saying words like "skull" weirdly. And when I say "they", I mean Sheebs, who can't say the word "rural" with her life on the line, so what the hell does she know?
My Pandora has an awful habit of playing "I Touch Myself" by the Divinyls, even after I've bestowed it with the thumbs-down kiss of death. It's baffling. When have I ever given anyone the idea that I have any goodwill for that song? Seriously.